On the sheep-cropped summit, under hot sun,
The mouse crouched, staring out the chance
It dared not take.
                              Time and a world
Too old to alter, the five mile prospect—
Woods, villages, farms hummed its heat-heavy
Stupor of life.
                              Whether to two
Feet or four, how are prayers contracted!
Whether in God’s eye or the eye of a cat.

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